


Villains and Heroes

by actuallyfeanor



Series: Fëanorian Short-Stories [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: But Nerdanel Is Mentioned, Everyone Else Just Mentioned In The Passing, Fëanor Has Issues, Fëanor Tries To Justify His Actions, Gen, Mostly Fëanor's Thoughts, hence the tag, not terribly shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 03:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17841857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actuallyfeanor/pseuds/actuallyfeanor
Summary: Another short Fëanor story. What can I say, he's beginning to get under my skin





	Villains and Heroes

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to [my Tumblr](https://actuallyfeanor.tumblr.com/) after someone asked for "something about Fëanor"

You have it all figured out, don’t you? The battles, the wars, the heroes and the villains. You see the bloodstains, the corpses in the water, proud banners trampled in the mud, and you see me. On every page of history, you see the marks I have made. Fallen, corrupted, mad - that’s what they tell you. And you believe them. Why wouldn’t you? You know how the story begins, you know how it ends, and what else matters?

Someone once said that every villain is a hero in his own mind. I, however, lay claim to neither villainy nor heroism. I am simply here to tell you a different story. My story.

I felt death’s cold hand on my shoulder before I had even tasted life. As I grew in strength inside her womb, my mother’s strength dwindled. She gave me everything and left nothing for herself, and I was powerless to stop her. Yet I never felt any resentment from her. Only love.

All my life I took great pride in the work of my hands - the skills I inherited from her. The Broideress, they called her, and her creations were magnificent. Silver waves on silver shores, towering cities, the spires picked out in the finest gold thread. It was light and music, transcribed in silk and satin. The sheer beauty of it would take my breath away as a child. I wanted to create something like that, something of incomparable beauty. And so I created the Silmarils. To this day I do not quite understand how I made them. It was a compulsion, a desperate need to express in craftsmanship what I could not put into words: all of my joy, sorrow, hopes and dreams, and that pure love I had felt radiating from my mother as she drew her last breath - everything captured in perfect detail by the mingling light of Telperion and Laurelin. Days went by, then weeks, and I lost all track of time. I barely slept and hardly ate, for my mind was consumed by the need to finish the work I had started.

At long last my labours reached their end. It was late at night, yet the room was bright as day, awash with the light of the three gems, and the air was filled with laughter and music. Memories swirled before my eyes: Nerdanel walking through a field of flowers, her eyes sparkling with mirth. Nelyo taking his first steps, Makalaurë singing his younger brothers to sleep.

Nerdanel. The only time I ever felt like a villain was when I lost her.

For all their wisdom, the Valar forgot to reckon with one thing: Love. From the safety of Valinor, they claimed to do what was best for the whole world, not caring that people died along the way. And they forgot that those people mattered. So they told me to give up my Silmarils, my greatest work, made in honour of the mother I had lost. They would destroy all that light and joy, because they could not stop Morgoth, their own brother, from plunging the world into darkness.

Sometimes it takes darkness for us to see things for what they are. This Earth was not made for the Valar. It was made for us, the Children of Ilúvatar, so we could forge our own paths through it, whether those paths should lead to ruin or to glory. Lulled into a false sense of safety by those who would keep us from outshining them, we finally shook off the chains of oppression and spread our wings.

I have lived a full life; I have loved and I have lost. And for a few glorious moments, I shaped history itself and burned bright enough for all the world to see.


End file.
